


Framed Regrets

by Hotalando



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating, F/M, FRobinWeek2018, Failed Date
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 10:25:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16427555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotalando/pseuds/Hotalando
Summary: Dating just isn't her thing, only for failing.





	Framed Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [FRobin Week 2018](http://frobinfandays.tumblr.com/FrobinWeek2018), prompt "photograph"!

Within her field, she is known as the cult specialist. There may be many enthusiasts even among her colleagues but none of them saves their knowledge as thoroughly as she does. Diving into the depths of raw human nature, swimming through the darkest and murkiest waters of a society‘s soul—that‘s where she likes to put her mind. 

Finding out the true intentions behind an object, how primal or evil their creator was, is the most interesting and fulfilling research she can think of. It‘s thrilling, exciting, spooky at times even—but she likes these kinds of things anyway. 

 

That to her, all faith in supernatural powers is  _ humbug _ doesn‘t quite suit her interest such beliefs, cults and practices. She‘s a rational mind, at work, at home, in love. 

 

She is no different with the latter—her own faith in true love is as thin as paper—except that she isn‘t interested in love altogether. Not at all. 

Not in the guy her best friend made her date—she can‘t believe she agreed on seeing him again tonight—not in any other man or woman. She admires a handful of people, she knows to platonically love someone, she has friends she loves like a true family—but romance isn‘t her thing. 

 

But the framed photograph on her desk is. Well, not the photograph itself is the center of attraction that much—just her a little awkwardly placed next to her loving best friends—it‘s the frame a colleague has brought her. According to ancient (and office) legend, the frame is enchanted, carved from wood by magical hands of a regretting soul. Reasons for the construction are only mere assumptions but common belief is the creator wanted to achieve something that would remind others of their true love because they have missed out on it. 

 

Romantic kitsch, nothing else. It‘s a nice frame to look at, she agrees on that. A simple wooden frame that has withstood centuries in a closed-off cave, everyone is still wondering why it hasn‘t fallen apart yet. There‘s an unidentified coat painted on the wood, most likely not only to enhance the wood‘s colour. A probe has already been sent to experts but while waiting for the results no one wants to have the  _ haunted  _ frame around. 

 

Except of her. She doesn‘t as much enjoy its presence but rather tolerates it. 

 

Much like her date—a weird man sat across from her. It‘s after work already, the day has flown by like a bird on a hunt and before she realised it, she had to leave for the dinner arrangement. 

 

He‘s fun to look at, just like the frame, but she‘s very convinced that his existence in her universe is obsolete.  _ Much like the frame _ . 

 

But unlike the frame, her date isn‘t just office myths and false interpretations. He‘s very real and he‘s very  _ upfront _ . Not as subtle as the frame that fulfills its job of only  _ framing _ a photograph very perfectly, very silently. 

 

She does what she has done the last time—sounding interested, fascinated as he keeps on brabbling on whatever his profession is—he could be slaying puppies for a living for all she knows but her best friend wouldn‘t probably know someone as cruel, what a shame—but it‘s something falling under her radar and she can‘t even pick up on key words as she usually does, it‘s been a rough day really—maybe just looking at him with an interested, enchanting smile would be enough? she wonders how much of her attempts he actually registers, or maybe he‘s smarter than she thinks? no, no, she‘s always been right about people—well except for that one time but every–

 

“You seem exhausted—we can call this off,” he interjects with her train of thoughts. His gaze is piercing, observing, examining, analysing.  _ Is he figuring her out?  _

 

“Oh, no, I‘m fine, keep on talking about… your… work…?” Hach, she may really be too exhausted for this. 

 

“So you weren‘t even listening at all,” he concludes his examination, gulps down the rest of his drink and motions to leave, “Thanks for meeting up, at least Nami got something out of this.”

 

Mind sharpening instantly, she solves his riddle within a blink of an eye. “You think only Nami profits from our dates?” She looks at him as he stands up from his seat. 

 

A very interesting man to look at. So wild and… not untamed, he does seem acquainted to daily hygiene and invests a lot of care into his hairdo and that colour is  _ some _ tone to attract attention. His built is broad and tall, not like an oversized brick—he‘s well proportioned. He‘s masculine and knows it, but doesn‘t play it as many other men of his kind do. And that‘s when she sees it—his disappointment at the turnout of their date, he has hoped she was as serious about it as him—while she has been faking interest.  _ Has she? _

 

A grimace overplays his grave disappointment. “I don‘t mean to offend your best friend, Robin, but everyone knows her love for betting. Let‘s be honest—she wouldn‘t‘ve seriously asked you to date someone like me. This is a bet between you two.” 

 

Robin shakes her head a little too vehemently. “It‘s not! She didn‘t set this up for fun. She convinced me that you and I would get along well and… I‘m sorry I‘ve never given you a chance.” 

 

“No problem, no harm done. You should get some rest,” he forces out with a too small smile for his wide features, “Have a good night.”

 

And Robin is left with a confused waitress and a small bill to pay. 

 

Definitely deserved. Just one glass of a soft drink she doesn‘t really remember in this playthrough of the evening but the meaning behind it costs much more. Generally, she doesn‘t care about gender roles, she‘s financially capable of taking over a bill. But she had to pay her wrong does and that he left her without a word on his order was a very smart and subtle way of expressing his feelings about  _ them _ . 

 

Well, no more dates with him, apparently. There will be others and there will be more dates because they‘re somehow fun and her best friend is very involved in finding her a partner. She doesn‘t want to disappoint her any longer, she doesn‘t want her to worry any longer. 

 

But there‘s also envy slightly involved in finding a partner. She watches her friends in their relationships, most of them aren‘t just plainly in love—they are partners for life. There‘s this deep, unconditional bond made out of trust and admiration and respect and all of those feelings Robin hasn‘t ever experienced herself. And she wants it for herself, too. This one person who walks alongside her, whose presence is never too far away, whose warmth and support she never ever forgets. 

 

Until now, she couldn‘t even remember her date‘s names. They‘re all just weird-eyes, red-hairs or whatserfaces. With some of them, she doesn‘t even remember their gender let alone what their first impression on her was like. 

 

Now she remembers him. All of him. In that moment she hurt his pride like it wasn‘t worth of her time at all. 

 

Back in her office, a day late, she regrets so much. Not having listened, not having looked, not having remembered. After all, she‘s wrong about comparing him to the  _ frame _ . The frame she doesn‘t even notice anymore for the photograph, that space on the left, that blank spot beside her pictural self, this prominent vacancy—why hasn‘t she noticed it? Why has she never noticed how empty, how  _ dead _ it looked next to her? 

 

Transferred onto reality—how wide is the void at her side? How dark, how silent, how useless? Why has she never noticed? 

 

What could fix herself, what could fill the space on the photograph? Who could,  _ who would _ ? 

 

Would he grant her a second chance? And would she make something great out of it? How much is she worth, how valuable is her attempt at turning things around? Would it matter at all? To him? 

 

_ Try _ .

 

She looks at the photograph inside the enchanted frame. And she tries. 

 

To listen better. To respect better. To be better. And is rewarded with the most friendly, humorous and clever man she has met in a long time. He is rough in his wording but he means what he says and what he means is justified, thought-through opinions—this man has been living his life with eyes opened. Robin likes that a lot. 

 

A craftsman, grown up building ships, he now does carpentry too— _ you ought to expand your services these days _ —and also designs outdoor architectural elements in his spare time. Not just a handyman, he also uses his head to create things. 

 

And after several coffees at some shabby cafe, Robin cannot fight the regrets of not having listened before, that she has only registered him when he meant to leave her. She wonders if he could ever forgive? 

 

“I‘m sorry I messed up our dates so far. I regret a lot that I haven‘t given you any chance,” she admits with her gaze cast on the table, “I am really sorry, Fra–”

 

He halts her with the move of his hand, “I had my chances but I couldn‘t win you over. That happens.”

 

The bright smile on his features is enough to extinguish the apologies flaring up in her chest. It‘s only taken for her to listen earnestly, to be herself and  _ try _ and it all is enough for him. 

 

Maybe just her is enough for him, too? 

**Author's Note:**

> Ultra, super, awfully sorry for not updating any of my stories but returning with a new one. Please, forgive me, I'll be returning to updating once I've gotten used to my work schedule and am able to write on the bus. There'll be updates in the following weeks, I promise! I hope you enjoyed this one for now!


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